


Healer

by esuterutomoru



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Frottage, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 10:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12792390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esuterutomoru/pseuds/esuterutomoru
Summary: Gladiator life isn't the easiest. Anyone would want a bit of fun inbetween all the gore and pain.





	Healer

**Healer**

 

There was blood everywhere. He spat a mouthful to the dirt, his or not, didn’t matter. It was in his eyes, clouding his vision. His nose was full of the smell of it, a coppery stench that told of death and pain, speaking his language. He could feel it coating his face, dripping from his long hair, covering his hands, making the grip of his sword slippery. He heard it drip from the edge of the blade, a quiet, rhythmic undertone to the savage screaming and chanting of the crowd.

 

“Lo’Gosh! Lo’Gosh! Lo’Gosh!”

 

Victory, again, bought at the dearest price: the life of others. What sweet carnage, all round him in the ring. Bodies, ravaged by his weapon, his hands and his teeth, scattered like slabs of fresh meat at a butcher’s, waiting for the flies to come. A hundred times he had fought, and a hundred times he had won.

 

It was a simple life, clean, free of pretenses. Kill or be killed was the only rule. As luck had it, he was damn good at killing.

 

He raised his bloody fist to the sky, taking a moment to revel in the roaring excitement rippling through the spectators. It seemed like the whole world adored him, for those fleeting seconds of delight.

 

The gates opened, and Lo’Gosh knew he had to drag himself out of there before the cheer turned to boo and the drumming fists to thrown rocks. His kind was not welcome here too long.

 

Head held high, his body full of ache, the sword a piece of lead in his hand, he moved, walking in a daze from the ring, into the darkness of the corridor beneath the arena. He was blind for just a moment, until his eyes adjusted. A guard herded him, yelled in orcish at his ear, but dared not touch him, not while he was armed. He was a smarter one. The real smart ones knew not to bother Lo’Gosh even when he was unarmed and bound.

 

He tossed his sword to the arena master, moving ahead, those beady, baleful eyes all looking after him with reproach to mask the fear. He felt the stares burn into his back, shook them off with a shrug as always and went to his cell. Healing, food, some rest, and then he could see the sun and live again.

 

The bars closed upon him with a clang, another sound he was used to. He went to his straw cot in the corner and sat, shoulders hunched, waiting for the next clang. When it came, he looked up, and his eyebrows lifted at the pleasant surprise.

 

It wasn’t the old orc shaman that usually mended his wounds. This was barely a man, fair and pristine and looking horribly out-of-place among the filth and shadows in his pretty priest gown. Lo’Gosh grinned, all his teeth showing.

 

“What’s that face you’re making?”

 

The healer, as much as he tried to keep looking disgusted and snobbish, had to blink in surprise. Lo’Gosh suspected not many of the other gladiators spoke Thalassian.

 

The boy stepped closer, and scrunched his little nose up further. “You stink,” he whined, voice still a child’s, or just that much lighter than the growls and grunts Lo’Gosh was used to.

 

“Killing does that,” he said. “Getting blood all over you does that. This place does that.” He looked around, shrugged his huge shoulders then eyed that wisp of a man again. “Come closer. Afraid I’ll bite?”

 

The priest stalled, his glowing eyes a pair of green pinpoints in the darkness, fixed on the hulking figure in the corner. He did inch closer after a bit of consideration, hands clutched together, his long blond hair tucked primly behind his long ears. “You look the sort.”

 

“Can’t argue that,” Lo’Gosh muttered, waiting, watching, patient as a predator.

 

The boy took that as a good sign for some reason, so he stepped all the way over and hovered his elegant, fair hands over the man’s shoulders, seeking pain to soothe, injuries to mend. His pink lips were pursed and his slim, trimmed eyebrows were all drawn together in concentration. Lo’Gosh licked his lips.

 

“Ah!” It was a pretty noise, high and scared, that his elf made when the pair of huge hands clasped him around his waist. He was wide-eyed and frantic, flailing, stumbling, fighting the powerful yank to no avail, and finally landing sideways on the man’s lap. He blinked, the bright green jewels panicked, and he squirmed and pushed on that boulder of a chest.

 

“Better you don’t thrash around too much,” Lo’Gosh whispered. He squeezed his hands into the tender flesh of his waist and locked gazes with the boy. His eyes warned he could break his bones with just a clench of his fingers. “The guards will hear… and believe me, I’m not the only one who hasn’t seen a pretty face in months. Do you understand?”

 

The blood elf stilled and curled his fingers into small, weak fists. He was silent as he thought, weighed options that really weren’t options at all, then gave a trembling nod.

 

Lo’Gosh loosened his painful grip, rubbing the abused spots with his palms. They would still be black and blue later, but the sentiment was what mattered, he thought. “Good. Your name?”

 

“Arlin,” The elf muttered, voice small and teary. He was close to crying, but fought it as fiercely as he could hope to. What a sorry, sweet sight he made.

 

“Arlin,” Lo’Gosh tasted the name, humming around it, looking his prize over again. He was less than half his size, his clean white clothing smeared with blood and dirt, he was shaking, and about to cry. He was just perfect. “Get up, Arlin, and take your clothes off.”

 

Arlin sniffled, shuffling to his feet, eyes darting about, his hands hovering over his sash. None of this was in the books or the preachings, and though he realized what was happening, he was very far from understanding the situation. This was never supposed to happen to someone like him.

 

He caught the man’s gaze on him and swallowed, a warm flush of embarrassment running through him from head to toe. He felt his cheeks burn as his fingers fumbled with his sash, the knot impossible somehow.

 

All that blood on the man, the look in those cunning green eyes, the sheer size of him… he could not help the queasy coil of fear that lingered in his stomach. He was sure that he could crush him with his bare hands and in this forsaken place he doubted the Light would come to his rescue.

 

Finally, the knot loosened and the sash slid to the floor. His numb fingertips picked at the buttons on the front of his robe, gleaming gold, falling open too easily. The fabric parted and showed a sliver of skin when the last button came undone. Arlin clutched at the flaps, holding them closed, shooting the gladiator a quick glance. When he growled at him, he jumped and fumbled out of the gown, letting it slip down his thin shoulders, falling to pool around his feet in the dirt. He whimpered as he stared at it, wrapping his arms around his slight torso to hide as much of his skin as he could. He shivered, from the cold or the fear or the look the man was giving him, he wasn’t sure.

 

“Trousers, too,” Lo’Gosh grunted, unbuckling his belt with a swift push and yank. He watched as the young elf tugged at his own, his pretty fingers trembling, a sob escaping him when the buckle gave and the fabric around his hips fell open. He held it up with his hands desperately, his bright eyes fixed on the gladiator.

 

“Please…” He whimpered, squirming, shuddering. Lo’Gosh answered his begging with a groan as he pulled his breeches down and wrapped his bloodied hand around his cock, stroking the half-hard shaft with quick, jerking motions. Arlin choked on his breath and froze, eyes wide open, wishing he felt more disgusted at the sight.

 

“Come on,” Lo’Gosh growled, his gaze flashing, his patience clearly thinning. His strong hand kept jerking, up, down, fast enough to make slick noises in the quiet. It was difficult to look away and at the same time embarrassing to watch. Arlin forced himself, quickly shuffling out of his trousers and slippers, stumbling, barely righting himself in the last moment.

 

Cheeks flushed, hands cupping his loins, he stood naked in front of the man, chewing his lower lip. He wished the floor would open beneath his feet and swallow him down, but… there was a tingle, strange and warm, right in his lower stomach. He glanced at the man stroking himself off, and swallowed a mouthful of spit. The warmth spread, flooding his groin and inner thighs, making his arms break out in goosebumps. Mortified, he realized he was growing hard.

 

“Getting into it, are you?” Lo’Gosh sneered, his scarred face all teeth and red blood, his greedy gaze roaming Arlin’s slim figure. He was beautiful, and he probably didn’t even know what that did to people. He’d learn it soon enough.

 

“Here.” He waved his free hand. Arlin took a shaky step forward, his knees weak. He sniffled as he stood before the man, his crotch right in front of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips into a thin, nervous line, trying to prepare himself for the next thing without knowing what it would be. When the large, rough hand caressed the inside of his thighs, he jumped and instinctively pressed them together. The warm, calloused fingers were stuck, trapped just beneath his loins.

 

Lo’Gosh laughed; a dirty, ragged sound that made Arlin’s long ears color red. “Like my hand there that much, do you?” The man asked, twisting his wrist and shoving his hand upwards to cup the boy’s hairless sack in his huge palm.

 

Arlin squeaked and jolted at the touch, grabbing onto the gladiator’s forearm for support with both his hands. It was sticky with drying blood, but thick and powerful like a tree branch, holding him up without troubles. That arm could probably lift him off his feet like he was made of feathers. Another flush of heat flooded him at the thought, and his lips suddenly fell apart, a sigh heaving from his chest. “Haa…”

 

He blinked, sight out of focus, his hips squirming, away or into the hand that was caressing his balls, he tried not to figure out. Belatedly, he realized he had made a noise, so he covered his lips with both hands, then just one, the other going back to the firm muscles of the man’s arm, grabbing on for dear life.

 

He was smooth as silk, the sensitive skin stretched taut as blood flooded the boy’s loins, his sack growing firm against his hand. Lo’Gosh could feel the nervous muscles in his legs going slack, his knees falling open, feet scooting apart to give him room. The little beauty was starting to enjoy himself no doubt, unwittingly looking for more of the pleasure. Lo’Gosh licked his teeth, squeezing his own cock tight to press down an impatient surge of heat. Couldn’t come too quick. Chances were he wouldn’t see the boy again after this, so he wanted to enjoy the rare moment to its fullest.

 

Arlin’s thighs had slowly shifted apart enough that the man’s hand fit comfortably between them. He had vague thoughts that this was not supposed to happen, but the pleasure was clouding all those silly ideas. Before he could catch himself, his hips were undulating gently, rubbing himself into the heat of that touch. He was hard and leaking wetness, and it felt so good that he couldn’t stop sighing into his palm. He squinted one pretty green eye open and caught the gladiator staring at him, seeming to eat him raw with those carnivore eyes. Arlin whimpered and tucked his shoulders against his ears in a vague attempt at hiding the redness both there and on his cheeks. Embarrassment was one thing; it was the flustered, confused need he felt that left his head reeling.

 

His hips bucked and rocked, shifting to and fro, squirming delicately to get the hand where his body seemed to demand it, but nothing worked. It kept sneaking away, stroking him elsewhere, rough fingertips circling the slick head of his small cock, massaging the shaft, the base, but never touching properly. Finally, he puffed his cheeks up and grabbed the man’s wrist with both hands to halt the teasing.

 

Lo’Gosh grinned up at the boy. He looked damn sweet with his face all scrunched up into an impatient pout. “What’s that?”

 

“Why are you doing that?” Arlin hoped he sounded as demanding as he felt, but his voice was a petulant, spoiled whine to his own ears.

 

“Doing what?” Lo’Gosh curled his fingers around that slim shaft of flesh. The boy’s cock got lost in his hand, his palm covering the entire length of it and he gave it a thorough, firm squeeze.

 

“Tha- mnhggh…” Arlin was certain he had wanted to say something coherent. When that hand gripped him and trapped his pleasure, he couldn’t care less about speaking properly though. Some gibberish stuttered from his lips as he scooted closer to the man and his hands found leverage in his tousled, thick brown mane. He was moaning, he could hear it, but he couldn’t hope to stop himself even if he tried, and he was too busy thrusting his hips forward to think of trying.

 

“Please!” He whimpered, dainty fingers tangling knots of hair, clawing, scratching the man’s scalp in desperation. He pulled, squirmed and shook his head, wheezing out air when the hand moved, stroking him all over, making him drip again.

 

It was too much, all that fair skin right in front of his face, the jolts and stutters of those thin hips. His mouth watered, and he released his firm grip on his own cock to grab a handful of the boy’s pert ass, yanking him closer. He pressed his face against his thigh, breathed at the skin and mouthed the softness with a growl.

 

Arlin gasped and stumbled forward, grabbing the gladiator’s leather jerkin for support. There was hot air against his thigh, hot, damp air and stubble and a pair of hungry lips and he broke out in goosebumps, legs shaking, eyes wide in surprise. It felt good, but it promised something more and he wanted that he realized, he was full of want, of need, of a desperation that made him arch and try to push closer to everything he felt.

 

When the teeth gnawed at his flesh he cried out, curled forward, and sank his nails into the back of the man’s neck. His thigh was burning where he was bitten, he was certain he would bleed, but he couldn’t hate the pain. The hand on his length stroked him again, building a rhythm now and the pleasure was so thick that it coated everything, dulled the ache, and turned it into bliss. Arlin sobbed, tears spilling from his eyes, precum from his cock. He shook his head and bent forward further, rubbing his flushed face into that tangle of dark hair.

 

“I can’t…” He whimpered, his voice thin and airy, ending in a pathetic moan. He wasn’t sure what he couldn’t, but he clung to some confused denial beneath it all. He wanted to fight it, he knew he really should have, but when that mean mean hand squeezed and massaged him, he couldn’t help sighing in delight. It was too good to be true, almost like one of those strange dreams he had sometimes, except the sensations here were stark, powerful, pushing through him relentlessly towards something even better. Perhaps it would have scared him if he wasn’t so overwhelmed.

 

Lo’Gosh grunted and sucked the bitten flesh into his mouth, tongue cleaning the seeping blood from the wound he’s made. The elf was a priest, he could heal it without scarring if he wanted. For now, he intended to enjoy his feast, nibbling on the teeth marks, savoring the coppery taste while his hand was busy stroking the boy off. Moisture trickled down his hand, over his wrist, mixing with the drying blood there. It tickled, and he finally abandoned the bite to lick the trail of precum off his arm, his tongue sliding all the way up to the tip of the boy’s cock, cleaning the slit, but only more flowed.

 

When he felt the heat of his breath and the caress of his tongue teasing him, Arlin gasped and his knees nearly gave out. His sniffles and moaning mixed into a strange music as he fought to stand again and at the same time thrust into the strange, wet heat. Again, he mumbled something, the words ‘please’ and ‘more’ sneaking into the nonsensical sentence without bidding. Time was somehow standing still, and even the gruff noises in the corridor didn’t mean anything.

 

The boy was begging him now, whether he noticed or not, and Lo’Gosh did love to have others at his mercy. His eyes were gleaming and his smirk was anything but kind when his lips danced around the boy’s stiff length, kissing here and there, tongue playing with the crown, teeth grazing the silky foreskin. He could tell from the quick jolts of those hips and the squirming just how frustrated he was getting. His dismayed little whimpers were sugar sweet.

 

“No..!” Arlin muttered, lips pursing into a pout then parting for another pleasured sigh when he was touched just right. He fought as well as he could, shuffling forward, tugging at the man’s thick mane, clawing his shoulders and neck, anxious to get what he needed. He was nearing that edge now, he could feel it building inside, but he could tell he’d be denied the pleasure and he was appalled at the thought. Again, that tongue circled the very tip of his cock and he was left wanting more. Huffing a great breath, he smacked the gladiator’s shoulder and even stomped his foot on the floor. “Please!”

 

Lo’Gosh laughed, again his hard, barking laugh, and he grabbed the boy by his bony hips and pulled him into his lap. Arlin fell to his knees and winced, cowering against the man’s chest, gripping his clothes in both hands. He was flooded with a fresh sense of mortal embarrassment as he glanced down and saw the man’s cock, hard and swollen, twitching, slick with moisture, dwarfing his own. His face was burning red all the way down his neck, and he swooned a little, covering his cheeks with both hands. He babbled something under his breath in Thalassian, shaking his head.

 

“No… no way I’m stopping now,” Lo’Gosh growled, responding to what he could understand from the stuttering. He wrapped his large hand around both their lengths and squeezed tight, groaning in the back of his throat. He would be done soon, couldn’t help it, and he didn’t want to. He gripped Arlin by the small of his back for leverage, fingers digging into his young body, leaving smeared marks and bruises. He grunted, thrusting his hips, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. His hand moved in a steady rhythm, stroking them both at the same time, slowly building up momentum. He was getting close, heat coiling in his loins, brimming with pleasure.

 

Arlin bounced along with each bucking motion, quickly dropping his hands from his face to clutch at the man’s shoulders for support. His little noises gushed out in a storm, quiet whimpers and small sighs, his breath coming in desperate gulps, trying to keep up. Just a few hard strokes of that rough hand and he was shaking his head again, clawing at the man, his breath hitching to a panicked height. His eyes squeezed shut and he froze up for the briefest of moments before everything seemed to fall apart and he cried out, jolting and tossing his entire body back. It was insane bliss, strange and addictive, and he was still full of it, beautifully blank inside, his skin sweaty and sensitive everywhere. It took all his effort to just breathe right, and he hardly even realized that the hand on his back had steadied him from falling over, and was now pushing him forward, into a vast, powerful chest that seemed oddly inviting. He flopped against it and focused on breathing, eyes closed, nerves tingling.

 

It was frustrating that the boy couldn’t hang on for a few moments longer, but it wasn’t going to stop Lo’Gosh from finishing what he started. He gathered him properly against his chest, letting him rest his head on his collarbone. Once he was all snuggled in, he shifted his hips a bit and gripped his cock, pushing it up between those tight buttocks. He heard the boy make a tiny yelp, high and surprised, but he didn’t stop him. Lo’Gosh took his ass in both hands and squeezed him snug and perfect around his length. Groaning, he began thrusting into that soft heat, smearing his precum along the crack, making each motion so much easier, the firm squeeze deliciously slick.

 

Arlin shuddered against his chest, hiding his face against his shoulder, but he moaned in the back of his throat and pressed his hips back into the sensation, soon beginning to move along with the man’s thrusts. It was damp back there, and hot, and it tickled in a sweet way. He didn’t know why it felt so good, but it did, and it almost hurt. Hearing the low, pleasured grunts of the gladiator wasn’t helping at all, he realized. His ears felt abused with the noises, warm and sensitive like the rest of his body, almost uncomfortable. Still, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted it to be over.

 

But it had to be. Lo’Gosh had held on as long as he could, surprising even himself, considering that he couldn’t remember when he’s last shared pleasure with anyone. His thrusts soon lost their rhythm, turned desperate and rough, seeking only that peak where he would tip over and lose it. A few careful, shy squeezes of the boy’s buttocks around him was all it took, and the low, lengthy moans falling from Arlin’s lips, and he was shuddering, flooded with pleasure. His head reeled with his orgasm and his seed spilled on the small of Arlin’s back, trickling into the crack of his ass.

 

When the wet warmth splattered over his back, Arlin whimpered, squirmed his thin shoulders and then his hips. It was the oddest sensation, a little gross almost, but he didn’t want to move just yet. He yawned into his knuckles and nuzzled his nose into the man’s shoulder. He was tired and he felt drained, and he really wanted to catch a bit of sleep right that moment.

 

A rattling down the corridor jolted them both from their blissful silence. Arlin jerked his head up, eyes wide, and stared at the man beneath him as though it was the first time he’s seen him. Scrambling around, he fumbled to get up and put his clothing back on at the same time.

 

The guard in the corridor yelled in orcish about food. Lo’Gosh tucked his spent cock back into his breeches without hurry, watching the boy as he yanked his trousers up. He didn’t wipe himself anywhere, so the cum on his loins and the blood on his thigh both made stains on the white fabric. The gladiator grinned and grabbed the gown lying beside him in a bundle. He lifted it to his nose, took a small sniff then tossed it back onto the boy.

 

Arlin gave him a despairing, flustered glare over the tangle of fabric, before shaking it out and turning it right. Frantic now, he pulled the robe on and buttoned it up to his throat. He stepped back into his slippers and straightened his hair with a few smoothing motions.

 

When the guard yanked the cell gate open with a loud bang, he slipped past him and did not look back.

 

Lo’Gosh took his meal of roasted mutton and ripped a bite from the piece with sharp teeth. Chewing, he mused that he never got any of his injuries mended that day and still felt much better than he usually did after a fight. Too bad that his new favourite healer would probably never show his face around the arena again.


End file.
